


Never do that to me again!

by serenbach



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenbach/pseuds/serenbach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watching Hawke fight an almost impossible battle was almost more than Anders could bear. Anders/F!Hawke</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never do that to me again!

“If she dies, I’m going to kill you,” Anders hissed quietly. 

“You should have more faith in her, mage,” Fenris returned calmly, his eyes on the battle occurring in front of them.

“He’s almost twice her size!” Anders bit out in agitation. “His _axe_ is bigger than her! She’s not even wearing real armour and you suggest she fights him in _single combat_. What could…”

“Quiet.” Aveline ordered softly. “Don’t distract her.” 

It had been hard enough, waiting outside the qunari complex for Hawke and Aveline to return from their discussion with the Arishok, only to witness the compound erupt into violence and knowing that Hawke, his Hawke, was trapped inside. He’d thought that he would go mad with worry. He had been so relieved to find her unharmed.

But now, having to watch her fight a far more dangerous battle while he was on the sidelines, helpless to intervene, was almost more than he could bear.

The silence in the room was electric as the assembled nobles watched Hawke duel the Arishok on their behalf. She was fast, but the Arishok was faster. She was quick and accurate with her daggers, but the Arishok was stronger, much stronger. Hawke had hit him more frequently, but each of the Arishok’s blows had more impact, frequently sending her tumbling across the floor. 

Anders still couldn’t believe Fenris had suggested this fight. If she died, he really was going to kill him. He wouldn’t even _need_ magic to do it. 

If she lived, he was going to kill her for agreeing to it. 

He watched her stagger to her feet, backstab and evade far more times than he liked. Anders clutched the railing as she darted around the Arishok, her blades flickering silver blurs around him, and yet appearing to do no real damage. He held his breath every time she lashed out, and winced with every wound she took. 

From his vantage point, he could tell that Hawke was beginning to tire. His fingers twitched, eager to send a revitalising jolt of magic her way, but he knew he should not. He had a feeling that Arishok would not take kindly to interference in this duel, and especially not magical interference. The last thing he wanted was to make things more difficult for her. 

Her mistake, when it came, was so tiny he didn’t even notice it. She stepped a fraction too close to him, was a touch too slow extending her daggers. Anders may not have noticed, but the Arishok did. Quicker than should have been possible for such a large man, he had Hawke skewered on the end of his blade, and hoisted her off her feet. 

Her cry of pain echoed throughout the room but it was lost in the sudden roaring in his ears. Hawke, the one thing he couldn’t stand to lose, was squirming in agony, helpless, lost…

He couldn’t stand it. 

“No!” He didn’t recognise his own voice, didn’t even realise he had raised his staff, didn’t even know he had called Justice’s powers forward until Aveline gripped his arm.

“The Knight-Commander is on her way here,” she murmured urgently into his ear. “As is the First Enchanter. If this turns into a three-way brawl, she’s lost, Anders. Stand down.” 

It was her captain’s tone that convinced him, and the firm gauntleted grasp on his arm brought him back to himself in time to see the Arishok shake Hawke free from his blade. She hit the floor with a dull thud and lay there unmoving. 

He could taste the fear in his mouth.

Nothing happened for several heartbeats, until the Arishok moved towards her and stared down at her with a frown on his face. “Disappointing,” he mused. 

As he moved closer, Hawke rolled under his feet, leaving a smear of blood on the floor behind her. Before he could turn, Hawke had already pushed herself to her knees, dagger piercing deep into his lower back, ripping into his kidneys.

The Arishok’s eyes widened and he sank to his knees as Hawke rose to her feet. She moved to face him, smiling that slow, dangerous smile that always made his stomach clench in the most inappropriate of ways. 

The Arishok said something to Hawke. He didn’t hear what it was, his attention was all on her. Then her daggers flashed one last time. 

It was over. 

Anders was moving towards her before the first qunari reached the door. He was no longer interested in them; they were abiding by the terms of the duel and leaving. 

Hawke sank down onto the stairs, hands pressed over the wound in her stomach. His hands were glowing in preparation as he sat beside her. 

“I did it, did you see?” she asked as he concentrated on healing that awful gaping wound in her stomach. In truth, he had seen worse wounds during his time as a Warden and in his clinic, but he had never seen such a bad wound on her, and that made it completely different. 

She started giggling, adrenaline and exhaustion setting in. “I really did it!”

“I saw. Stop moving,” he ordered her roughly, watching as the flesh knitted itself back together. She had other wounds that needed tending, but the worse was mended. She was out of danger, for now. 

He just couldn’t get the image of her bleeding out alone out of his head. It was going to haunt him, he could tell. 

He felt her hand on his face, her leather glove sticky with blood. “Anders?” she asked quietly, laughter gone from her voice as she noticed his grim expression. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking.”

He opened his mouth to tell her exactly why he was shaking, when there was another commotion by the door. He stood up, moving protectively in front of her. She was in no shape for another battle.

He would have preferred the qunari to have returned rather than see the Knight-Commander enter. Her eyes went instantly to the dead Arishok, then to Hawke.

“It’s over?” she asked.

“They’ve gone,” Hawke replied. 

One of the nobles cheered, and the cry was soon taken up throughout the room. “Champion!” Hawke looked more bewildered than pleased, though she raised a tired hand in response to the cheering.

The Knight-Commander didn’t look pleased at all, and her expression only darkened when it focused on him; a mage still glowing with magic. Hawke noticed her expression and pushed herself shakily upright, to stand alongside him. 

Fortunately, Aveline stepped forward to defuse the tension. “Why don’t you take Hawke and check her over?” she asked him, in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t a question, but an order not to cause trouble. 

He nodded, his worry for Hawke overriding every other concern. He led her through the still enthusiastic crowd and into a room that not two hours ago had belonged to the Viscount. 

“Well, that was exciting,” Hawke commented as he shut the door and leant his forehead against it for a moment. “Did you see…?”

She was interrupted as he whirled around and captured her mouth in a desperate kiss. She made a muffled exclamation of surprise, but didn’t object as he turned to press her against the door.

“Don’t you ever, ever, do that to me again,” he told her, punctuating his order with rough kisses against her neck and jaw. “Not ever.” 

“Do - ah! - do _what_ , Anders,” she gasped as he suckled a spot beneath her jaw that he knew would drive her crazy. He was too busy running his hands all over her body, checking for himself that she was still in one piece to answer her question. His sudden rush of desperate desire was stilled when his fingers brushed the tender, newly-healed skin through the rip left by the Arishok’s sword in her leather tunic. She hissed a little in pain and he drew his hands away at once.

An image of her sprawled bleeding across the floor replayed itself in his mind and he stilled, running his hands up her arms and gripping her shoulders.

He stooped to look her directly in the eyes. “Don’t put yourself in danger like that,’ he growled. “Never let yourself get hurt where I can’t help you. And stop listening to Fenris.” She let out a breathy laugh at the last one, and his tightened his grasp. 

“It’s not funny.” He lifted his head and stepped away from her, ignoring her surprise at his tone. He rubbed his eyes and trying to pretend that they were not stinging. “I had to watch you get hurt. You were just… lying there. You almost died! I can’t lose you, I can’t, I can’t.”

“Anders.” Hawke stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, rubbing soothing circles at the nape of his neck. “I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

“This time,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “So promise me. Never again.” He carefully pressed her back against the door and kissed her again, slowly and deeply at first but then grew frantic with remembered fear. His hands roamed her body once more, desperate to touch her, to feel her heart beating wildly against his chest. 

“Promise me,” he whispered, his breath warm on her lips. He needed her reassurance. He just needed her. 

“I promise,” she murmured, moaning a little as he pushed her tattered leather skirt up to her waist. He smiled as he felt her pulse quicken under his lips.

Her head fell back as his hand slipped under her undergarments, close, but not quite where she needed. “Promise me,” he asked again, ignoring her annoyed whine. 

“I promise,” she said urgently, rocking against his hand. He slid a finger inside her, but kept his touches slow and careful.

“Promise me,” he whispered into her ear, nipping her lobe as he spoke. 

“I promise. Anders, _please!_ ” She wailed and he twisted his fingers in just the right way to make her writhe and shudder against him. 

“Never again,” he told her fiercely as he hiked up his robes and entered her roughly, needing her lively and passionate around him. “Never,” he gasped against her skin with each frantic thrust, driving out the memory of her near-death.

She breathed her promise against his lips, and it was enough to send him over the edge, shuddering against her with a final plea as she cried out his name loudly, making more noise than she had when pierced by the Arishok’s sword. He clung to her while they recovered.

“I promise,” Hawke whispered, stroking his hair. “I’ll never leave you.”

After a long moment, he pulled away and helped her to adjust what was left of her armour, frowning at the blood on her skin and that had rubbed off on his robes. 

“Maker, Anders, you’re more tiring than the Arishok,” she chuckled tiredly, wrapping her arms around her still aching sides.

“Are you still in pain?” he asked, immediately remorseful. “I’m so sorry, love.” He began healing all numerous scrapes and bruises over her body, muttering curses against the Arishok. 

Hawke only smiled at him, tugging at his ponytail in an affectionate way. “It’s nothing that plenty of bed-rest won’t fix.”

He smiled back, feeling at ease for the first time since Aveline had insisted on Hawke accompanying her to the qunari compound. “I’m sure we can manage that.”


End file.
